


No Crystal Stair

by 1f_this_be_madness



Series: Beyond the Rhapsody [6]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF, Queen (Band)
Genre: Angry Roger Taylor (Queen), Angst, Ben bout to blow up because he has a lot of feelings, Ben is a quiet soul who just needs some validation, Brian is a talker and Rog doesn't articulate his feelings, Crying, Declarations Of Love, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Freddie's death as well as Brian's father's demise are major to Brian still, Gen, Gwil Lee is a sweetheart of a man, Hugs, I will never not gush over how fabulous Rami Malek is, Insecurity, Interviews, Joe and Ben are the background relationship here because I love them, Joe is exuberant and wonderful, Luckily he learns, Modern Era, Regret, Roger Taylor is a Daft Git, Rows, Sad Brian May, Smoking, So. This is me gushing because I really appreciate him, Swearing, What-If, Which I think is totally understandable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-25 20:35:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20031949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1f_this_be_madness/pseuds/1f_this_be_madness
Summary: "Well son, I'll tell you--life for me ain't been no crystal stair." - Langston HughesThe boys of Bohemian Rhapsody have a good bit of knowledge about their living counterparts, and are learning more about the members of Queen each and every day. It is wonderful to connect to somebody in a deep way by virtue of shared experience.And yet, if there is not something shared in background, there remains the possibility of shared understanding. Gwilym Lee has learned about the former. As for the latter... Well, suffice to say differences in sensibility are things that Ben Hardy has yet to get used to.(Or, in which Brian is quite an emotive individual when it comes to Gwil, whereas Roger has a far different approach to his interactions with Ben.)





	1. Chapter 1

Gwilym Lee is beyond grateful to have someone like Brian May as a part of his life. He cannot readily comprehend the fact that they know one another so well now, holy cow--not to mention the fact they have aspects of their lives that are similar, if not the same-- coming from a family of doctors who do not quite understand the draw of acting or of art as a career, he relates to Brian's similar, though much more extreme, experience with his own father. Gwil has not found a way to broach that particular subject as of yet, but feels as though there is something he should say.

He gets the chance one night when the two of them go out to supper after both are in the same area to perform interviews. Brian needs to decompress--after all these years, he still grows irked by interviews--and Gwil suggests going to eat at a quiet little place together. He is incredibly happy when Brian instantly agrees.

They order food and drinks, and the conversation turns to holidays and families and finding home. Gwil comments on a question he had answered about finding home, knowing where that is; knowing who you are, and grounding yourself in that knowledge. He asks what Brian thinks about that, and the Queen guitarist says that he has always felt a draw towards home, felt it to be a necessary component and aspect of his life. "But, after everything that happened with my dad, which you've learned about," he bows his head in acknowledgement of Gwil's research and his own experiences "and can understand, I think, it's been a struggle to remind myself of who I am. To really centre myself in and locate my home." Brian breathes and inquires "Have you… have you ever struggled with that?"

Gwil swallows and chews a bite of food. What a question that is. "Yes, I have," he returns. "And it's, it can be hard, but I know my family, even if they don't understand what I do, they still care about me. That allows me to come home. Even if this life, it's not what they wanted for me, they're still glad I'm doing so well. And I think--" he looks into Brian's face "I really hope your dad was proud of you. I'm sure he saw you do well, and...it surely made him happy."

Brian tries to say something back to Gwil, smiling, but he cannot form words. Tears fill his eyes and spill onto his craggy cheeks as he keeps smiling thankfully, and Gwil clears his throat and lets out a little hiccough as he wipes his own eyes on his jumper sleeve. And then, looking up at Brian, he slides across the bench they are both sitting on to wrap his arms around the older man, pressing himself against Brian's chest almost like a child would do. Brian reaches out and wraps his arms around Gwil as well, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "It means a lot that you'd say that, Gwilym," he murmurs into the younger man's dark hair. "...Thank you."

Gwil nods against Bri's chest and his hair tickles the other's chin. "You're welcome," he says, and then his arms tighten as Brian lets out a quiet noise and starts shaking against him. Gwil turns his head, holding close, rubbing Brian's back. "What--are you alright, Brian?"

Brian hauls in a shaky breath between his teeth, eyes tightly closed as he holds onto Gwil. "I am, please don't worry yourself," he says, but when Gwil keeps hanging on to him, listening, the guitarist adds "...I just wish I had talked to him. That he had told me. That we'd shared...so many things. So many more things. But we can't. He's gone. And so is Freddie, and I--" sucking back more tears and swallowing, Brian's voice grows incredibly small: "it's hard, Gwil. It's still so hard for me."

Gwil keeps hanging on, whispering "Brian, I'm so sorry. You're--you are so strong, and kind, and good. You've been such a help to me, such a good friend, and a strong support. And I want you to know I can do that for you. I want to. If you--if you need." He rubs Brian's back in a circle, leaning away to look in the older man's face, tears leaking out of his own eyes and sliding down his cheeks. "I mean it, Brian. I wish you didn't have to feel as you do even now, but I'm beyond grateful that you can talk to me, and I'm... happy to help if I can. To listen. I--know it isn't the same at all, but--" his words cut off as Brian pulls him sharply in again, squeezing tight. 

"It's the loveliest gesture, Gwil," Brian returns. "Truly, it means so very much. And Gwil, you're lovely. You're so wonderful, truly. I am..." Brian clears his throat as he moves back a bit to put a now steady hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Never think you are lesser in wanting to help me by not being my father or Freddie. You are extraordinary, Gwilym Lee." He squeezes Gwil's shoulder and his eyes are open and warm and clear, not so haunted or broken as they'd seemed mere moments ago. "I'm so, so proud of you." Cupping Gwil's cheek in his hand, eyes full of affection, Brian adds "I love you, dear boy."

Gwil closes his eyes and leans into Brian's touch before replying as his heart swells "I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my loves! 
> 
> I have been thinking about shared experience, and have heard Gwil speak in interviews about his family being full of medical folk who don't necessarily understand his draw to a career in acting. From research and knowledge of Brian May, I know that his family--his father in particular--did not speak to him for years after Brian chose to leave school and pursue his music career. Thus, a similarity exists between them.
> 
> I wonder if Brian ever got to hear that his father was proud of him and who he had become, and so the idea for this chapter was born.
> 
> Please do tell me what you think, comments are always appreciated <3


	2. Chapter 2

Gwil tells the other boys what happened afterwards. He is beaming, practically skipping as he rushes into the hotel room and blurts what was said that night in a blissful rush: "--And then he said he loved me and called me 'dear boy' which damn near killed me. I mean-- Brian. MAY. HE said that! To me! Who am I to warrant that from him?"

"You're extraordinary," Rami says simply, his large eyes serious. "He told you that you're extraordinary, Gwil-- which is completely true."

Joe is nodding furiously, beaming. "Yeah Gwilly, of course he loves you. Who wouldn't?"

Ben is standing in the corner, his arms folded as he smiles over at Gwil, saying softly, tone infused with pleasure, "Mate, I'm chuffed for ya," which is true; he is. 

But as Gwil beams and gushes some more, Ben ducks his head and wipes at his lips, blinking hard. He wishes he could have something like that. Roger isn't affectionate in the way Brian is, though, and Ben feels awful for wishing he was, just so Ben could get a hug and hear a "Cheers, Ben, you've done so bloody well, I'm proud of you for playing me". 

Selfish, Ben thinks. That's selfish. It isn't that he wants to be needy, or demand any praise; he wishes he did not feel this way. But his distance from his own family means that positive parental presences are not often a part his life. It's probably another reason why he loves his relationship with Joe so much, and being with the other lads--they know him and they compliment him in a way that is fulfilling yet also joking, so Ben doesn't feel badly for enjoying it. Well. Not AS badly, at least. 

Of course, Roger probably doesn't realise Ben wishes he could hear praise from him--the man himself. Or if not praise, just, well, something.

So when Rog does an interview and goes on about Ben, well. "Benny, I heard about this interview with Roger and Brian, hang on, ya gotta see it!" Joe enthuses, bringing up the video on his phone and handing it to Ben.

It is a short interview segment. Ben watches Roger's face, his seemingly baffled but excited smile as he and Brian say they started believing the lads WERE them upon subsequent viewings of the film-- "We kept asking ourselves, 'when did we do that?' and it's them," Brian said-- Roger nodding along and agreeing that it was fantastic, utterly surreal. Saying he and Brian got so close to them, to the boys, as actors. Ben swallows hard after the video is over and ducks his head.

"So?" Joe bounces a little, squeezing Ben's hand as the blond hands him back his phone without a word. "Whaddya think, Ben? He said you're fantastic, he appreciates you!"

Ben scoffs. "Okay, yeah, so Roger can go on to someone ELSE about how well I did, great. But he's never done directly to me. Why, am I a lousy conversationalist or something? And besides," he waves a hand "He's got to say things like that in interviews, because he's promoting the film. I dunno, maybe he's exaggerating."

"Ben," Joe's eyes grow wide as the other man turns away from him, shaking. "Oh Benny, hey, c'mon. You did great, he knows you did great. We all do." He puts a hand on Ben's back, rubbing circles to soothe him. Ben lets out a tiny sound and turns into Joe, burying his face against his neck.

"I'm sorry, Joe," he chokes out. "I shouldn't be acting like a ruddy child, shouldn't be feeling like this. It's stupid."

"No, Ben, it isn't," Joe murmurs back, holding Ben tight. "You feel how you feel, and that's okay. You need to know what Roger thinks, I get it. He can be kinda ...hard to read. With the sunglasses and all."

Ben lets out a tiny hiccoughing snort. "Right? And when I'd ask him something or show a trick of his I tried to do, he'd just nod a bit."

Joe chuckles. "...and he was always messin' with your drums."

"He had the right to," Ben quickly says, moving back a bit and wiping his eyes. "I didn't have an issue with it, but."

"Ya just want to know how he feels about you, Benny." 

Ben lowers his eyes a bit. "...Yeah, I--exactly."

"I get it."

Joe is serious, and Ben is grateful for that. He is so grateful to have Joe--and Rami and Gwil, who understand too. Joe must've talked to them, because they both say little things that let him know they get where he's coming from, and they have his back. 

Ben is lucky, he knows that. He just keeps on wishing, painfully, for something that might cause Roger to speak.

***

The situation comes to a head when they're all out one night, celebrating the completed press tours and award season, as well as the fact that Queen is going on tour again, woohoo! They all cheer and clink their drinks together, and Rami says "A toast," quietly, licking his lips as he lifts his glass. "To all of us," he says, "We are queens of the impossible, my darlings. I'm so thankful that we are all here, that we know each other and can share in one another's accomplishments so freely. This is a dream come true, and I love you guys." His luminous eyes find everyone else's in turn. "Cheers," he says.

"Cheers," they all answer. Joe beams and Gwil puts an arm round him. Rami leans into Ben's side.

"Bless you, boys," Brian says.

"Hear hear," Roger adds, tone a bit rough as he continues "and Rami, that --was great. Freddie would be so proud." 

Rami ducks his head, flushing in pleasure and embarrassment. "Oh, thank you, Roger," he murmurs. 

The drummer nods and gulps his beverage. "Course," he says.

An instant of frozen silence precedes Ben knocking back the remainder of his own drink and standing abruptly, slamming his glass down on the table. "I --need a smoke," he says sharply, tone of voice a bit strangled. "And some air."

The lads look up at him, Rami's eyes growing soft in concern and realisation, Gwil putting a hand on his arm and Joe reaching out for him. "Hey, Ben--"

"It's alright," Ben sniffs and swallows and attempts to smile, briefly taking and squeezing Joe's hand tremblingly. "I'll be back, yeah? Scuse me," he shuffles behind Brian's and Roger's chairs, eyes lifting sharply as Roger moves to accommodate him and locking onto the drummer's with so much feeling, an agony therein that Roger nearly staggers backwards from the sheer weight of it. 

Roger settles back into his seat, looking around as the others' eyes follow Ben's exit. Brian is still standing, brow slightly creased. "Well," the drummer raps his knuckles on the table and lifts his expressive eyebrows. "--What the bloody hell was THAT about?"

Gwil and Rami look at each other, and then at Joe, who leans forward a bit, shuffling uncomfortably. "I think...well, Ben's um. He worries that--you don't..." Mazzello is struggling, for once, with words.

"--You can say so surely that Freddie would be proud of us, of me," Rami intones gently, rescuing Joe. "Which is wonderful."

"...But, no disrespect, it can be a lot harder for us to get a bead on how YOU feel, Roger," says Gwil. "Which is hard for Ben in particular."

Roger's eyes crinkle as he jerks his thumb back towards where Ben had gone. "So what, he's--?" Pouting? Roger thinks.

"He needs to know how you feel about him, Roger," Brian speaks up from where he stands, looming over his friend. "He needs to know you care."

"Oh, sod--" Roger starts, but then pauses as he ponders, looking round at the others. "Is he...right, boys?"

The three nod their heads. "He isn't far off-base," Gwil says with a glance at Joe who nods at the tiny baseball reference before focusing his gaze back on Rog. 

"Ben's a good guy, and he's committed, and quiet. He's not gonna come up to you and ask for something, but he needs..."

"He still needs support," Roger breathes out in realisation, fingers coming up to cup round his face. "Christ, he's the same age as my Rufus. He's so YOUNG." He forgets, sometimes, the ages of these lads. And Ben is the youngest of them, so it makes sense that he would need something else, validation in a different form, perhaps, from the others. Roger, you fucking moron. He pushes back his chair and stands up. 

"I'm going to talk to him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All aboard the angst train, woot woot!
> 
> Poor Ben. I want to stress that I don't know anything about his private life or family, so my thoughts on his relationships with them are purely hypothetical, as are my musings on what Roger's lack of effusiveness feels like for him. I do think, as the youngest BoRhap lad, he may need some different sort(s) of validation. And he's actually the same age as Roger's son Rufus so there's that additional component.
> 
> Do let me know what you think, darlings. Comments appreciated <3


	3. Chapter 3

Roger threads his way around other denizens of the restaurant and pushes at the heavy wooden door of the place, stepping out into the darkness and glancing around. 

People are walking by under the streetlights in front of him, but he doesn't see Ben; at least not initially. Til he turns and hears a sound off to one side. Just out of the range of the closest streetlamp, he sees the red-orange glow of the end of a cigarette and then it falls and is crushed out before Ben steps into the light, shoulders a little hunched and head tipped down. He rubs his hand across his face and Roger spots the sheen of tear marks on his round cheeks, furiously being brushed away. Ben hasn't seen him yet, but Roger cannot move; he feels as though an icy hand has clenched its fingers round his heart. He doesn't know what to do except gently clear his throat. Ben looks up and stops dead. 

"...Roger," he gulps and tries to wipe his face obliquely, cheeks darkening with embarrassment to be seen like this, crying like a baby, what the hell. Instantly he starts to apologise "I'm sorry, I was--"

"It's alright; people are just worried in there," interjects Roger, voice a trifle rough as he attempts to flash a bright smile and jerks a thumb back towards the door. He is certain he appears idiotic. Come on, Roger. "The lads. And me. I was worried. No, don't apologise," he waves Ben off with a hand as Ben opens his mouth again. "I just came out here to see if you were all right."

"I--" Ben sniffs hard and tries to smile, bobbing his head. "I am, yeah. I just got a little... claustrophobic, discombobulated. Erm. It's stupid."

"No, it's not." Roger steps closer to him, studying the young man closely. He hesitates and then puts his hand on Ben's shoulder. Ben jerks and looks up in surprise, but doesn't move away. Roger swallows heavily. He notices Ben's stance, almost a stiffness, as he holds onto the other man. Ben doesn't seem to mind the proximity, but his tenseness is more pronounced once Roger shifts towards the door, and so the older man scans round the area as best he can, squinting into the dark. "Oi, you mind walking a piece with me?" He asks Ben softly. Makes a show of bending his legs. "Us elderly bastards get a mite stiff if we're sitting in places for too long, so. Care to walk?" He extends a hand and Ben smiles faintly.

"Yeah, okay."

Roger nods and starts walking, using a swinging gait as he goes along. He offers some bits of small talk about the pub, and supper, and is going to bring up the tour when Ben stops him, breathing heavily and clenching and unclenching his hands. He has grown stiffer as they walk farther.

Ben is so fed up with all his thoughts and feelings that he cannot take it anymore and blurts out finally, stopping and whirling to face the older man: "Alright, Roger, why are you doing this? Why are you out here walking with me? I mean your legs are moving fine, don't seem stiff at all. I've already played you, done the part, okay, and it wasn't anything brilliant--I'm nothing like Rami, KNOW I couldn't get your voice down, for one thing. But it's done, so I...why are you with me right now? Does pitiful little Ben need some hand-holding?"

"For fuck's sake," Roger gasps as he stops too. "Is that what you think? Of yourself, and me?"

Ben scoffs, extending his hands. "How could I not, Roger? I... I know I was a bitch to work with, okay, adjusting and re-adjusting my drumset all the bloody time, and I couldn't even PLAY drums to start, but I said I knew how, and-- I dunno, you don't say anything much, which is fine, I suppose; I just can't tell if I...."

"If you what?" Roger has turned himself to face Ben directly, eyes snapping, voice hard. He can tell that he is gritting his teeth, and deliberately tries to soften. Thinks about talking to a son, trying to understand him. "How does--" he remembers some of the tidbits he'd learned when having to talk about feelings over the years. Often with Brian. Mostly with Brian. "How's that made you feel, Ben?"

Ben lets out a heaving breath and bounces a bit in place. He lifts one hand and rubs at his hair, roughing up the back of it before dropping his arm again. Roger is honestly asking how he is feeling. Ben doesn't know how to tell him, doesn't want to overstep any boundaries or be disrespectful; though he supposes he's already gone that far by basically accusing Roger of pity. 

"I--feel like you don't know what to make of me," he confesses slowly. "And I get that, because I'm an actor and all, and I don't really go out of my way to talk to people; I'm not like Joe." An involuntary smile lifts Ben's mouth as he says Joe's name. "...but I just really want to do you proud, do right by you and Brian, and Freddie, and John. Right by Queen." He bites his lip and scuffs his toe across the ground. "Just, with all the, stuff--" he waves his hand round to encompass everything that's happened, even as he still doesn't believe he nailed Roger the way his cast mates nailed playing their counterparts. BoRhap did so well because of Joe and Rami and Gwil, not him. "The awards and everything, they don't matter to me, they aren't what counts. It's all, it's just a lot. And all I can do is hope that individually I did alright, but. I dunno. I don't want praise," Ben adds swiftly, eyes widening in horror at how he probably just sounded. "God, no. I just want--"

"You want it to be clear that you did alright," Roger says. "Did I never say that, honestly?" He asks himself, shaking his head. He thinks about how he would nod and say "yeah, right, okay" upon watching Ben and the lads shoot the movie. He would smile a bit, give a thumbs-up or a nod. Those were his praises, but he recongises now that it may be hard for others to accept them as expressions of overwhelming happiness if they don't know his ways or become used to his particular manner of expressing appreciation and encouragement. 

Now Roger intones "Ben, look at me." He faces the other and waits for his oceanic eyes to rise. High voice a gentle growl, Roger continues "What are you going on about? You weren't just alright, you were fucking fantastic. You didn't impersonate me; you understood what happened, what I did--and whom," he winks. Ben smiles. "And you showed it off in your own way. If you aren't there, the film doesn't work, lad." _I thought you knew that,_ he wants to say, but clearly Ben hadn't; and so Roger adds quietly "I wish you'd known that. Should've told you, well. Before." _And I'm sorry I didn't._ He should say that, knows he ought to; but can't.

He isn't able to express himself the way he used to do before Freddie died. There had been an ease he felt in talking when he was younger; he could say anything and everything to Freddie, dearest Freddie. Had been the most emotionally vulnerable with that sweet man, and therefore was able to be so also with Brian and with John. But John had fucking left him, and Fred died; he has only Brian left now, and they know one another well enough--they had bloody better, it's been fifty years, for chrissake--that Roger doesn't need to say everything he's feeling. Brian understands him without requiring words. But he cannot possibly expect Ben to be able to do the same. So the diminutive drummer shuffles his feet and puts his hands in the pockets of his jeans, rocking forward before lifting one out and roughing up the hair on the back of his head, wishing it were longer and more satisfying to shift. But it isn't, and he is not Brian, so he's not going to let his hair grow out again. Doesn't matter in any case. 

Roger focuses back on the man in front of him. This bright young person, soft-spoken, full of potential. He feels a rush of affection that makes tears prick his eyes as he recognises similarities between Ben and John; both are quiet, unobtrusive. Unsure or unaware of their amazing talent. And he is like Freddie in a sort of shy way. Rog swallows and abruptly moves forward, grabbing Ben and pulling him almost roughly into a fierce hug. "'M sorry," he murmurs against Ben's blond hair, high voice rough and quiet. Unable to look at him and admit that. "I should have been telling you, every day on the film shoot and after, how bloody fucking fantastic you are, Ben Hardy."

Ben lets out a shuddery whimper, his arms going out and at last wrapping around Roger, face falling into Rog's shoulder as he clutches the older man tight, biting his lip and closing his eyes, but hot tears squeeze out anyhow, to his chagrin. God, here he is crying again!

Yet Roger doesn't bat an eye, he simply holds Ben close and rubs a hand on the younger man's upper back, high voice humming a familiar tune: _"...Oh, this bores you to rages and tears… out on the street, we gather and meet, scuffing the sidewalk with endlessly restless feet."_ Still holding Ben as he shifts to look into the young man's eyes with a glint of humour twinkling in his own, Roger whispers: _"--But now life isn't too hard at all."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Drowse' is such a lovely, evocative song and I had to include bits of it for that :)
> 
> I was going to wait and post this but I wrote all the angst and just needed these two men to be all right. I hope Roger's stance and reasons why he doesn't emote ring true; I thought and wondered why he might act and react --or not react-- the way in which he does.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this, my loves! The title and quote by Langston Hughes come from his poem "Mother To Son", the entirety of which I found oddly apropos to this story. Many thanks to my dear friend Vi for encouraging me to use it.
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


End file.
